The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 59
“Show me.”
Seto followed him above decks. Sailors with bare feet and wind-burnt faces skipped out of his way as he strode to the rail. A second ship, this one also running pirate colours, was on the horizon, near to opposite the first. Seto cursed.
“I feel the same.” Snaps glowered at one of the ships. “Captain says they’ll try to head us off when the wind changes. It’ll be a close thing. The one to portside is closer.”
“Can we outrun them both?”
“Hard to say. One will try and drive us into the other. We’d have to be a mite more nimble than we are I’m afraid. But Cap has a few tricks up his sleeve.”
“Let’s go hear about them, then.” Seto headed to the helm, where Captain Tirang waited with a hand on the wheel. The helmsman stood beside him. Both men were from Holvard, far west, beyond even Medah, their stocky profiles, broad shoulders and ring-laden hands something of a tell.
“When will they catch us, Captain?” Seto asked.
Captain Tirang squeezed his hands on the wheel. Small jewels set in silver bands caught the light. “Nightfall.” His accent was still strong, lengthening the word. “But that’s exactly when we’ll disappear.”
Old Snaps whistled. “Want to try that again, Captain?”
He nodded at his helmsmen, who grinned. “We’ll be safe so long as everyone keeps their mouths shut.”
“Any idea of who the pirates are?”
“One is probably Falio,” the Captain said. “Can’t quite see his flag but I think it so.”
“The Shark,” Snaps added.
Falio, the bastard son of a whore. Seto had lost an expensive cargo to the sea-thief some years back. A tricksome man indeed. Could the lost Greatmask help? He said nothing. It wouldn’t do well to give the men false hope, he might not be able to use Chelona at all – how long now since he’d eavesdropped on Father and Otonos at lessons? And how long now since he’d failed, unable to make her speak?
“Keep me informed then,” he said.
“Aye, Your Majesty.”
Seto returned to quarters below decks where he motioned for a guard to join him, opening the prisoner’s door. The Pathfinder had not outlived his usefulness by any stretch. Seto found Ain pacing his tiny cabin with its hammock and sea chest.
“What news of the pirates?” he asked.
“Two ships seek to stop us.”
“Will we escape?”
“By dawn everything will be decided.”
“Meaning?”
“Captain Tirang will have evaded them or we will be dead.”
“What a comfort that is.”
“I trust him. I would not have hired him otherwise.”
Ain folded his arms. “And supposing we survive, you will keep your word. Free me and Schan, return the Bird of the Sun?”
“I must thank you for the valuable service you have provided, but I cannot grant you your last request.”
“Sands, you are a deceiver, a nurturer of lies. You gave your word. As King of your people.”
“That you and your friend would be free, Pathfinder. I said nothing of the Solave. You will have your life, a chance to return home. Forget the bird, it will only lead to your ruin.”
Ain sneered. “But not yours?”
“No.”
“Ha!”
“I am not ensared, but you are. Else you wouldn’t be so angry now.” And soon Chelona would protect him, had he need of it. A Bird of the Sun was no match for a Greatmask.
“I’m not –” He stopped himself and took a breath. “Sands, I’m in charge of my own destiny.”
“Then, as a reasonably free man,” Seto held back a smile, “would you consider completing a bold task?”
“Such as?”
“Carrying a message of peace home.”
The Pathfinder’s brows drew together. “Peace?”
“Yes. My kingdom cannot be surrounded by enemies and prosper.”
“You drove us from our home.”
“And tell me, Ain. How did you find your homecoming? Is it what you imagined? Can your entire people survive so far from the desert? Do they even wish to leave it?”
The young man clenched a fist. “That is not for you to decide. And it doesn’t change what your people did.”
“Nothing can.”
“That’s your answer?”
“My answer is a question. Will you consider taking a message of peace to the Cloud?”
The Pathfinder turned back to the chest, which was bolted to the floor. He sat on it and put his head in his hands. His shoulders trembled as he laughed. “This is a jest, surely?”
“No jest. Think upon it as we slip between the pirates’ trap.” Seto left without waiting for a reply. Apparently the peace of the ocean had deserted Ain. The young man was getting a little demanding, another reminder of his powerlessness wouldn’t go astray. But later.
In his cabin he returned to the drawer, slid it open and lifted Chelona. How cold beneath his fingertips she was, he’d forgotten already. He checked on one of the ships through the porthole and locked the door before raising the mask. Would she still be there? Would she know him? Care to speak to him?
Seto took a breath and put the mask on.
Darkness.
When he woke it was to more darkness. A thunderstorm raged within his skull. He squeezed his temples with the heel of his hands, rolling on the floor. The ship rocked enough that he stumbled on hands and knees, mask clattering to the wood.
A circle of moonlight poured through the porthole, stinging his eyes.
She rejected him. Nothing had changed. What had Otonos done to her? That pathetic, jealous worm! Seto rose to his knees and his stomach flipped. Vomit splashed onto his hands.
“Ana be damned.” He spat bile. Reaching his feet, he gripped the bed – bolted like everything else in his room, and stumbled for a cloth and water barrel. He returned to the vomit and mopped it up with a rueful smile. The Anaskari King, on his hands and knees wiping up vomit on a ship.
Speeding toward pirates.
Powerless to use one of the most powerful artefacts in the world.
He tossed the cloth into a corner and stumbled to Chelona, sliding the mask into his robe. His fingers tapped wood. Strummed absent strings. Even half a song on a harp might have calmed him.
Seto returned above decks. No lamps burned and orders were given in whispers. A flurry of activity went on above, as sailors climbed rope ladders and swung from the rigging. To one side the lights of a pirate ship were considerably closer. He turned and searched for the other, hands on the rail. There. Some distance away yet.
He found Old Snaps, who stood with the helmsman.
“What’s happening?” Men were hauling long rolls of what looked like black canvas, it was hard to tell by moonlight only.
“We’re dropping the net,” he said.
“Are we going to haul the other ships aboard and eat them?”
Snaps chuckled. “Nope. This net is special. There’s something woven in it that will help hide us. It does something to the light. Don’t really understand it myself, but it usually works.”
Seto craned his neck. “Usually?” From the crow’s nest, men were throwing out great sheets of netting. A glittering black mesh fell down, covering sails and rigging, rails and splashing softly into the waterline.
“If we keep our traps shut, it will certainly work.” Captain Tirang joined them.
“This is the method you’ve used before?” Seto asked.
“Several times. With the star-netting we’ll be safe. We just have to remain quiet and have a little luck from the Blue Vaults.”
“Star-netting?”
“Tis so. Our seamstresses back home claim they weave starlight into the rope to help blind our enemies.”
“It sounds magnificent. I wonder, since you’re returning home soon –”
“They won’t sell their secrets, Your Majesty.”
“Of course.”
“Nearly time,” Snaps said.
Tirang nodded. He relayed an order for silence and all activity came to a halt. Only the small creak of wood or rope could be heard as the ship drifted closer to one of the pirates. Their lights were bright and men in a motley assortment of uniform and garish dress, even in the moonlight, lined the rails, peering into the dark.
Seto touched Tirang’s shoulder and mimed two ships colliding. He raised an eyebrow.
Tirang shook his head.
That was something.
He held his breath when the ships began to pass, no more than a dozen yards between them. One of the pirates cocked his head. “You hear something?”
His voice was audible over the snap of sails and muttering from other pirates, a man shouting down from the crow’s nest. Seto even heard the rasp of a blade on whetstone. Another pirate snorted. “No.”
“I thought –”
The man cuffed the first pirate. “Bones. There’s nothing out there, use your bleeding eyes.”
The man had a hand on his cutlass. “Don’t do that again.”
“Or what?”
The pirates began to pull away, their argument fading.
Seto exhaled.
Chapter 34
Darkness cloaked his city.
Even had he looked, the streets could hardly have existed to Seto as his carriage rumbled along. He wanted only sleep. On something that didn’t rock.
He sighed when the palace gates ground open and put a hand over Chelona when an argument started. It did not last – royal decree about the closing of gates only extended to those who weren’t royal. He was soon striding to his rooms, having ordered Ain sent back to his room under guard, with promises of tomorrow.
He hesitated by the large cage and its heavy drop cloth. The Bird of the Sun would be sleeping, but it still needed to be fed. No-one was allowed to touch or even go near the cage – and only a handful of people even knew where the bird rested – Seto fed the bird himself. Foraging for scraps of meat from a dish – fresh from the kitchens and mostly rabbit and fowl, he dropped pieces into a small tray at the bottom of the cage, lifting the cloth just enough.
Then he let it fall, the pull of the bird washing over him without even a stirring. Too tired.
Two steps from the door to his bedchamber and a knock came.
“Your Majesty, are you there?”
Solicci. Hiding his voice like a true Mascare – though the timbre was familiar enough.
He could say nothing. Just slip into the bed...but if he did, the man would only come back at dawn. Seto checked on Chelona, whom Solicci would not be meeting, hidden in his robe, and raised his voice.
“Come in, Solicci.”
His advisor wore mask and robes, but placed the mask aside when the door was closed. “Your Majesty, it is good to see you safely returned to us.”
Seto chuckled. “I rather enjoy not being dead myself.”
“The nobles will be pleased also.”
“Ah.” Seto moved to a sideboard and poured a drink. He motioned to Solicci, who declined. “Why don’t we sit and you can tell me about it. In brief.”
“Well, sire. They worry over issues both small and large. Nemola wishes to place a levy on the people to compensate for the destruction of the fleet, to help rebuild.”
“Does he?”
“And there are various disputes and concerns, most related to trade but above all, I believe they – we – are feeling...neglected by our new King.”
“That warms my heart, Solicci. But surely that can all wait until tomorrow?”
He inclined his head. “Then would Your Majesty care to take a report?”
“The harvest?”
“Captain Holindo and Luik report that, with the aid of the Alchemista, it will be but days before the last of the flesh is gone.”
“Wonderful news.” He leant forward, a touch of energy returning. “And Flir and the Storm Singers?”
“The song appears to be working. The majority of the population who hear it report improvement if not cure. As yet, we haven’t unsealed the Gates, but both Lord Abrensi and Lady Lavinia are confident. They still sing daily and crowds remain large.”
“Word from Captain Emilio?”
“Nothing new. We estimate that he and his party are still within the Bloodwood.”
“Very well. Word of Vinezi?”
“None.”
As expected. “And the invasion?”
Solicci straightened. “A messenger bird arrived. Ships have finally been sighted. They are some days away yet, but it is confirmed. The storms have been mild it seems, if the bird managed to reach each island in the chain.”
“How many?”
“Ten, maybe more.”
“Hardly the full fleet, wouldn’t you agree?”
“They will have acor.”
“True.” Seto sipped his fire-lemon, savouring the burn. His second crucible as King. How would the city fare? “And it’s more than we possess, what with how many ships lost to the Beast and how many chasing the pirate fleet?”
“A dozen. And weeks from returning.”
“Very well. Tomorrow, accompany me to the corpse. Planning for the fortification of the breech will be finalised.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He stood. “Thank you and good night, Solicci.”
“Of course.” The man replaced his mask, bowed and left. Seto finished his drink and paused at a second knock.
“By the Gods.” He took another step toward his room.
The knock came again – only with a certain pattern. He admitted a page, who handed over a small piece of paper with a bow. “He has been waiting for you, Your Majesty. In the kitchens.”
“Very well.” He followed the lad down to the warmth of the kitchens, fuelled by hulking ovens. He’d waved off his guards, but several floors down and he regretted it now. They could have carried him some of the way. What a sight it would have made too, the King of two dominions carried along the halls of his own palace.
A thin man in black sat on a stool, finishing a piece of cheese. The Perfume Rat.
“King Oseto.” He stood and swept a low bow, no doubt for the benefit of cooks and their helpers.
Seto waved the man into the corridors, saying nothing until he was behind a closed door – a quiet storeroom. “You have news?”
“No good news I’m afraid.”
“Wonderful. Quickly, tell me as I am weary tonight.”
“You are very busy, I understand.”
“What is amiss?”
“The other Rats and I have come to a decision regarding our place in the city.” His nose twitched. “We feel we can no longer work with you as leader, not with your attention so neatly divided, and with such potential for conflicting agendas. Not that we don’t appreciate everything you have done.”
There. His juggling had failed. Inevitable but most vexing. “I see.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I cannot, nor do I wish to stop you.” And it was true. It was too much. And he could achieve more as King, and truly, it was his oldest dream. One he’d denied for decades. And yet, a sting lingered. No use trying to deny it. Establishing that sly kingdom had saved him.
The Rat grinned. “Doubt you could, Seto.”
“Really, Enso?” Seto gave his own smile when the man flinched. The rat’s true name. “Yes, I know all about your true past. You were quite a capable merchant, how surprised your father must have been when you killed him.”
“That was an accident!”
“Truly? Now, I trust you realise my reach extends far beyond that which you assume. And let me grant you your freedom – though under conditions I lay out and which will be met, or I will drown every rat in our sewer, do you understand?”
The Perfume Rat swallowed.
“Good. The first is that the Queen’s Harper is off-limits unless I invite you. Expect overt moves against the palace and its interests to be answered swiftly and from many sides. Further, nothing has changed in regards to our working to protect the city from the invasion and the apprehension of Vinezi.” Seto paused. The rest could wait. “Further stipulations will be issued. See yourself out.”
Enso scurried from the room and Seto growled as he pushed himself toward the nearest Mascare passage. Whatever stood between him and four posts, pillows and soft blankets would be crushed.
By the time he reached his rooms he’d stubbed his toe and torn a sleeve on a loose piece of stone, but finally he was mere steps from sleep. The door swung open and Seto froze.
Something was in his bed.
Or someone.
He drew a knife from beneath his robe. All traces of weariness vanquished. “Show yourself.”
Nothing.
Seto scanned the room. Empty. For a trap, it was a clumsy one. He took the edge of his blanket and hurled it aside.
A stench drove him back.
Hunks of black, rotting flesh covered his bed – tints of blue catching lamplight from the sitting room. Seto replaced the blanket and roared for his guard.
Chapter 35
Seto shouted his commands, motioning for a senior guard to attend. He stood in the hall outside his rooms, a makeshift command centre. While Solicci urged him to keep out of sight, his Honour Guard did exactly as they were told, staying put to watch over him while someone worked at cleaning up pieces of Sea Beast in his bed.
Inside, he’d posted a guard on the bird, just to be sure.
“How many others?” he asked.
“Only one so far, My Liege,” the soldier said. “In a corner of a storeroom. Packed into stores of dried fish.”
“And they are being burnt?”
“As we speak.”
“Good. I want one of the Storm Singers on hand for the search.”
He saluted and ran off.
Solicci paced beside him. Seto gave him a look. “Have you solved the problem yet?”
“My King?”
“All that pacing.”
The Mascare stopped. “How did they get in?”
“I have an idea of how to discover that.”
“The Medah Pathfinder? Do you trust him?”
“No, but I trust the hold the Bird has on him. He will do as I ask. He won’t be able to resist.”
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